The More Loving One
by Boudicca's Revolt
Summary: Okay, here's a little Christmas ditty. It's a sister story to my other: Things Once Beautiful. Enjoy! Oh, and by the way, I enabled anonymous reviews I had never meant for them to be disabled! Cheers and Merry Christmas.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. JK Rowling owns them all. I don't own the poem fragment; that belongs to WH Auden.**_

"_If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me."_

_-WH Auden from "The More Loving One"_

"-and you're sure you'll be okay without me for the night?" George questioned for the umpteenth time. Ron had been reassuring George that he and the shop would be fine for one afternoon for the past two days.

"Yes! Everything will be fine George. It's just one afternoon. What's the worst I could do?" Ron asked, visibly exasperated. George raised his eyebrows and Ron let out a frustrated huff. "I ran your bloody shop for five _months_ George!" Ron blurted out. He had the decency to look a little ashamed but George knew he was right. Ron had done a fine job, surprisingly. Once he had finally returned, he found most of everything in order. The stores were a bit depleted but that was to be expected. Ron didn't have all of their formulas, after all.

"Alright, alright, you've got me there," George conceded, raising his arms in defeat. Ron grinned.

"Now get out of here and get me a good Christmas present; I deserve it." George smiled back and pulled on his cloak. Ron was right; he did deserve a good Christmas present after all he had done. The past months had been difficult to say the least. The last couple of months had turned up a bit though. He found himself feeling happy again, if only occasionally. And, he thought ruefully, a lot of that had to do with Ron. He never would have guessed it, but Ron's complete lack of tact had been exactly what George needed. Ron had long since gotten over not ever mentioning Fred's name and keeping his memory alive had been good for both brothers.

George stepped out into the nippy December wind, pulling his cloak closer. He turned back and gave one last look at the shop. They had held and cherished the dream for so long that the reality of its actual existence had never really sunk in. It took Fred's death for reality to come. George realized that it wasn't joke shops or money that created happiness at all. He had come to view the shop not as his dream but as a vehicle for spreading the happiness that should have come from Fred.

They had refurbished right after George's return. The shop needed a definite face lift after its months of neglect. George had insisted on a small framed picture of Fred in the window along with a plaque. It made Fred seem closer somehow, though it usually caused George a sharp twinge of sadness.

Ron opened the door, stepping out with an air of irritation. "You better get bloody going or the day will be over and all of this coaxing will have gone to waste!" George rolled his eyes.

His first stop was Gringotts to retrieve some money from his vault. After that, he had to find and purchase a long list of Christmas gifts. He walked quickly to the bank, hoping to avoid a long conversation with Bill. Though he loved his family now more than ever, their constant, unwavering sympathy was a bit tiresome. Upon arriving at the impressive building, he pushed open the door. He looked around the room, and let out a relieved sigh, no Bill. He walked up to the front desk and in a matter of minutes, he was whizzing along toward his vault.

After retrieving his gold, he emerged from the cart, feeling a bit ill. He walked quickly and determinately toward the door, hoping still to avoid a run-in with his elder brother. He was just about to open the door when he heard his name. "Great, bloody stupendous," he muttered, turning round to see Bill jogging toward him. His face was still full of scars though they had softened slightly. He looked a bit too skinny and a little drawn and tired.

"George! Fancy seeing you here!" Bill exclaimed with forced cheerfulness.

"Hello Bill; how are you?"

"Fine, fine, how are you?"

"Fine, I'm just about to do some Christmas shopping. Ron's looking after the shop for the afternoon."

"Lovely! You know you needn't get anyone any Christmas gifts," Bill hastened, resting what he thought was a comforting hand on George's shoulder. George tried hard not to roll his eyes.

"Of course I do! It's Christmas and you all deserve something nice, not least of all Ron," George explained tiredly.

"Well, it's a bit early for me to leave work but I could come with you. You probably shouldn't go it alone." George didn't even try to bite back his groan. They had been like this ever since _it _had happened. They seemed to think of him as a ticking time bomb.

"Well," he said, putting on some false cheerfulness of his own. "It's going to be a bit hard for me to buy your gift if you're following me around." Bill looked like he was about to say something but George pressed on. "Don't worry; I'll be back in the shop by supper time, no worse for the wear. Now, if you don't mind, I've really got to get going."

"A-alright, I'll floo you later on tonight," Bill replied, stepping back as George pushed out of the glittering double doors. George breathed a sigh of relief as he emerged onto the cobblestone streets. He looked down at his wrist watch. The shops closed at seven and it was now half past eleven. He looked down at his list-Ginny. What on earth do you get a seventeen-year-old girl?

He dove into a new boutique but walked out two minutes later as everything in the whole blasted shop was either too short or too low-cut. Ginny certainly didn't need anything like _that. _As he was walking past Flourish and Blotts, a book caught his eye. It was bright green with purple lettering: _Imogin Ralf's 50 Variations on the Bat-Bogey Hex and Other Useful Hexes. _"Perfect," he breathed.

He walked out with another book about the history of the Hollyhead Harpies along with a book on English Cauldron Legislation for Percy and, his personal favorite, _The Wonderful Life of Harry Potter_ for Harry. He'd also found a book on Magical Egyptian Treasure Troves for Bill and a book on Dragon Cross-Breeding for Charlie He looked back down at his list to see who was next, Bill. In George's humble opinion, having Fleur as a wife was Christmas present enough but he quickly pocketed that thought. He bought him a very posh wrist watch that could also double as a monitoring devise for any little Weasleys soon to come. He had a keen suspicion that Fleur and Bill were hiding something or, rather, someone. Charlie was next and fairly easy. He bought him a collapsible broom, perfect for long commutes. Buying a gift for Percy was a bit more difficult. He had never really understood Percy, but he wanted to make a concerted effort.

He walked into a quill shop and was happy to find a very Percy-ish cashier. On the straight-laced bloke's advice, he bought Percy a very expensive set of refilling, spell-check, grammar-check quills. Feeling quite happy with himself, he looked down at the list again. His heart sank; Ron was next. George felt that anything he bought Ron would come woefully short of paying him back. George was still amazed at how much Ron had been able to help and how little he had asked in return. He ducked back into _Quality Quidditch Supplies_, hell-bent on getting Ron the finest broom they had. He saw it, sitting behind glass with a shining plaque.

"That's our newest broom, the Firebolt 360. There are only 500 in existence and each are personally inspected from handle to tail. It's ten times faster than any of the brooms out there and operates almost by thought," a short, eager cashier explained, bouncing on the balls of her feet. George thought that a broom operating on _thought_ was a bit of an over-statement but he didn't say so. It _did _look impressive and he had all of Fred's shares. He had been listed as Fred's sole heir and now had more money than he knew what to do with.

"I'll buy it," he stated simply.

"Don't you want to hear the price?" the cashier asked. George shook his head.

"I'll take that autographed Chudley Cannons jacket too."

"Okay," the cashier replied a bit warily. She rung him up and George's heart stopped a bit at the exorbitant sum. Ron deserved it though, he reminded himself as he passed over the money. Next was his mother who received a new set of the finest magical cookware Diagon Alley had to offer. Ginny got a pair of very expensive shoes that changed into whatever shoes the wearer desired. They even expanded, on the off chance she grew any more. Fleur got a very nice necklace as did Hermione. Harry was getting a set of all the new WWW products. That left just one person, the person George had been dreading-Dad.

After what had happened, George hadn't been able to look his father in the eye. _It_ had happened a week after the funeral. George had never been more miserable in his entire life and he had given up. The family, not knowing quite what to do with him, had left him alone. It was in their room, the room he and Fred had shared for seventeen years. Overcome by sadness so heavy he could barely stand and so deep he could not see past it, he had decided to end . . . everything. He strung a rope from a hook in the ceiling, the hook on which Fred had hung his broom. With a peace he had not felt in that whole, long week, he had stepped up onto the chair and slid his head through the loop. His last thought as he kicked the chair from under him had been seeing Fred's face again.

Arthur, who had come up to talk to his son had opened the door to see George hanging, unconscious from the rope. An animalistic groan clawed its way up his throat as he dove for his son, cutting the rope with a deft flick of his wand. He caught George as he fell and quickly pulled the rope over George's head.

"_Oh Georgie please, __**please**__ Merlin __**no**__. I can't loose another one, not another one,"_Arthur had sobbed, cradling George in his arms. George had sputtered a moment later, his eyes flickering open to see not his beloved twin but his _father_ . He didn't know if it was from desperation or anger but he lashed out, tears streaming down his face.

"_Why would you do that?! I just wanted it all to end and you, you idiot! I can't do this; don't you see. I can't exist without Fred. I-I'm not George, I'm __**not**__! I'm half of Fred and George. You-you had no right, no right at all! You don't understand. No one understands," _he sobbed, collapsing onto the floor.

"_I-I couldn't let you, I-I couldn't loose you. Oh George . . ."_

Arthur and Molly had put George into St. Mungo's the next day. He had remained there for two full months. George couldn't wipe the look on his father's face out of his mind. He didn't know what to buy him, what to give him that would make up for what he had almost done. He felt heavy with shame. He had nearly let everyone down, nearly made them go through more pain. He had nearly let Fred down. If it hadn't been for his father's timing. . . .

He looked down at his wristwatch. It was already five o'clock. Deciding that Muggle London would be as good a place as any to buy his father's Christmas gift, he returned to Gringotts with his shrunken purchases in a small shopping bag. He walked up to the counter and exchanged the rest of his money into pounds. He gave a small wave to Bill who was packing up to head home but walked quickly out of the bank.

Luckily, it only took him all of an hour to find the perfect gift. After seeing a bright, blue automobile zoom past him, he knew. He needed to buy his father a car. He'd found a dealership and was soon the proud owner of a flashy, electric blue sports car. He drove it off the lot, hoping he wouldn't meet with any police men. He had driven the old Ford Anglia enough to know what he was doing but it was a tense ten minutes before he could get to a deserted spot. He shrunk the car until it looked no more than a model. It was five past seven when he returned to the shop. Ron was sweeping up and had just put the "Closed" sign out in front. The shop looked very cheerful, set against a soft snow which had just begun. The lights from inside cast an inviting orange glow onto the cobblestones. George shook out of his reverie and stepped inside.

"Everything set?" Ron asked, setting the broom against the counter. After getting over his initial distaste for using brooms for anything other than flying, George had noticed Ron always liked to sweep up manually. George nodded, grinning.

"Lovely, well, I guess you're on your own tonight. Hermione just flooed and wants me to go to a Christmas party her parents are throwing. I hope that's alright." Ron said, pulling off the shop apron and setting it on the counter. "It's been bloody busy today. We're nearly out of Hairloss hats and Pygmy Puffs not to mention the crackers."

"Good, I'll make some more tonight. Have fun at your party and try not to get too drunk this time. Last time you went out with Hermione, you knocked down a whole shelf of fireworks coming in." Ron chuckled, his ears turning pink.

After Ron left, George set the gifts in his bedroom before retreating back to the storeroom to make more hats. He still hadn't shown his family Fred's memory. It had never seemed like the right time but Christmas seemed like the perfect time. It would be the perfect Christmas present.

_Christmas Eve: One Week Later_

The shop had been unimaginably busy all that day. Ron and George hadn't sat down once from the time it opened to when they pushed the last customers out the door. They had received periodic floos from six o'clock onward from their mother, hastening them along. These "messages" had become almost violent after seven. At quarter till eight, they finally got their last customer out through the back door. They had had to put an obscuring spell on the windows and let customers out through the back exit to keep the thronging mass outside from bursting in. They were just sweeping up when their came a sharp knock on the door followed by their mother's commanding voice. "George Fabian Weasley, Ronald Billius Weasley, you had better be outside by the count of five or so help me I will break down this door!" Ron and George exchanged horrified looks and quickly opened the door, letting Molly inside.

"Okay Mum, we're just sweeping up!" Ron exclaimed.

"Ronald, Harry and Hermione have been there for hours. Your life should not be this bloody shop. Christmas is about family and-"

"We _know_ Mum, but think about all of the families we made happy today! Think, what would people's lives be without Skiving Snackboxes or Headless Hats?" George replied, putting an arm around her.

"Get your things and apparate home. I will clean up here," Molly replied, but managed a small smile none-the-less.

A half hour later they were all sitting down to a stupendous feast. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry, Hermione, Andromeda Tonks, and Teddy were all there as well. There was so much food that even Molly didn't try to foist off the last bits on any of them. They all went to bed feeling too full to be allowed but comforted by the fact that some things could still be the same. George had set his wrapped presents under the tree and had asked Harry a couple of days before to bring his pensieve.

They woke to an unseasonably bright, warm December morning. George, who was sleeping in Ron's room, woke up and stretched. He looked over at Ron who had his head resting on the top of Hermione's bushy head. For a moment, he contemplated getting his mother up to find them, but thought better of it. It was Christmas Day after all, and even if he couldn't get any, that was no reason why Ron shouldn't. He thought back to Fred's memory and chuckled.

Downstairs, Molly had the table full again, this time with steaming plates of sausages and bacon along with giant bowels of scrambled eggs. She had made cinnamon rolls, pancakes, waffles, buttered toast, scones anything any of them could have wanted for breakfast. She was busying herself with a pot of tea when George emerged. "Good morning Mum." She turned around and smiled at him sadly.

"Good morning love. Did you sleep alright?" George nodded, biting back a grin; he hadn't slept quite as well as Ron had. Arthur was the next one down followed closely by Percy then Ginny, Bill and Fleur, Ron and Hermione (blushing profusely) and finally Charlie, still yawning deeply. Harry would be coming later with Andromeda and Teddy.

An hour later, they were all sitting around the enlarged living room, plates of breakfast in their hands. Harry had Teddy bouncing on his knee and Molly kept shooting looks between the baby and Fleur. They each had a small mountain of gifts in front of them. George had insisted they save his for last. Molly opened hers first and gasped. "Oh George; it's too much!"

"Nothing's too much Mum, really. It is kind of a selfish gift as I'll just want you to cook for me more." George replied, blushing. She batted a tear from her eye and walked over to him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Hermione and Fleur opened theirs next and were both wearing their gifts happily. Harry had groaned at the book but was excitedly looking through his box of WWW products, allowing Teddy to examine the fake wand. Ginny followed and let out a squeal of glee at the shoes and a rapturous groan at the book. All of the Weasley brothers exchanged frightened looks. Charlie opened his next.

"You've got to be joking!" he exclaimed, drawing the broom out of the wrapping to examine it more closely. "I was just telling Maureen at work about these. They're state of the art and perfect for co-"

"Commutes, yeah. It folds out to full size but as you can see, you could easily fit it in a work bag if you wanted to," George finished, grinning.

"Thanks mate!" Charlie hugged George closely, hoping his younger brother wasn't trying to hide anything with his gifts. He seemed almost too normal.

"There's a book too," George finished lamely as the two brothers pulled away. Charlie opened it and sent a toothy grin George's way.

"Very cool; I'll have to show Maureen." Molly narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

Bill opened his next. His eyes nearly popped out of his head upon seeing the watch. "This must have cost a fortune!" he breathed.

"Nah, you deserve it." George hastened, rolling his eyes. Fleur looked over his shoulder then up at George and he knew that she knew. . . that he knew. She seemed about to say something but thought better of it.

"Eet is beautiful George. Eet will go well with Bill's lovely blue robes." George nodded. Bill happily began leafing through the book as well.

Percy was quite happy with his gifts as well though he cottoned on eventually to the fact that the book on cauldron thickness was just a joke.

Ron opened his slowly, knowing full well that anything George gave him couldn't possibly live up to his selfish fantasies. He pulled back the gold wrapping slowly, his fingers trembling slightly. When he saw the lettering on the box, he looked up at George, his eyes narrowed in confusion. "Is this a joke?" he asked. George simply shook his head, causing Ron's eyes to go wide. Ron launched himself on George before even opening the box to examine his new racing broom. "THANK YOU!" he bellowed, hugging George tightly.

"What did he get you?" came the chorus from his family, all craning their necks. It was Hermione who got to it first. She rolled her eyes and gave a little huff of irritation.

"It's just a stupid broom," she answered. Ron rounded on her.

"Just a broom? Just a broom, Hermione? That is the newest model of broom out there."

"Yeah, for about ten minutes."

"This is a Firebolt 360! This is ten times faster than Harry's broom. It has hairpin precision and operates almost by _thought_."

"Memorized the marketing slogan then?" George asked, laughing. After a few more minutes of arguing between Hermione and Ron, they both agreed that they would _never_ agree where Quidditch was concerned. "There's something else too Ron. Open the other box. He opened it and looked like he was about to cry. He drew the jacket out of the box with trembling fingers.

"Bloody Hell," he breathed. "I never thought-not in my wildest dreams." George blushed and batted away the complements. He still hadn't done enough.

That left only one person. Arthur opened his small box and examined his small gift. "Lovely, keys," he murmured, looking up at George. He had sadness in his eyes, betrayal, rejection that made George hasten along the process more than he had anticipated.

"Not just any keys Dad. Follow me outside and I'll show you what those keys operate." The car was sitting out in the front lawn with an invisibility spell on it. With a flick of George's wand, the car appeared and Arthur stared at it, open mouthed. "Now I know we lost you your first one," George began, shooting a reproachful look at Ron who was wearing his Chudley Cannons jacket. "-and this one can't exactly _fly _. . . yet but I hope you'll enjoy it." Arthur flung his arms around George's neck.

"It's one of the best gifts I've ever gotten George."

"So you like it?" George asked needlessly.

"Like it, more like love it I'd say." He walked quickly to the car and opened the door, sliding himself inside. He rested his hands on the steering wheel, drinking in the new-car smell. He had never been inside a new car before. He had won the Ford Anglia in a very well played game of chess at work. He had had a strong suspicion that Perkins had just wanted to get rid of it anyway.

It was Molly who broke the silence. The rest of the family, including Harry, Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy had all followed Arthur and George outside to see the gift. She marched, with hands on her hips, to the front of the car. "I hope you don't intend to do anything other than drive that car Arthur. You will leave the keys with me you know. I'll have none of this nonsense about flying cars and invisibility buttons again." But Arthur could not hear her. He only knew that he would love that car till his dying day and that his son, the one who he had thought would hate him until his dying day, had given it to him.

George cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. He couldn't possibly have any more to give them. "I hope you all like your gifts. You all deserve them more than you could possibly know. Anyway, I have one more gift to give. It's one I should have given you all months ago, when I first found it. It is the last gift you will receive from both me and Fred and I hope it will bring you as much, as much . . . closure as it has brought me." George batted away a tear and reached his hand into his pocket. He drew out the small vial with Fred's memory.

"Before Fred and I went into hiding," he pressed on, gazing intently at Fred's untidy scrawl. "We made a memory of both of us saying goodbye. We- our worst fear had always been that we would leave without saying goodbye, to, to all of you. Harry, could you-" Harry handed over the shrunken pensieve. "I don't know how you want to do it, separately . . . "

"Together, let's do it together, just like we always do," Arthur answered, resting a shaking hand on George's shoulder. George could only nod. Harry, Hermione, Andromeda, Teddy, and Fleur (who did not like to loose herself in front of a croud) had gone back inside to leave the Weasleys to their moment. George engorgeo-ed the pensieve and tipped the memory inside. All nine, eight of them filed into the pensieve. There was a collective gasp as they all looked at Fred. They were all together for what they all tacitly knew was the last time.

They each watched as Fred made his goodbyes, laughing at times but, on the whole, crying. Like George, they felt an incredible mix of emotions. There was Percy, who was filled with shame for being so nasty to his family while they were all whole and Charlie whose guilt for not being there when his family had needed him the most weighed on him daily. Each of them felt the loss of Fred in that moment both singularly and collectively. In those moments they knew that the hole in their lives which Fred had once existed would never again be filled. It wouldn't be filled with spouses, girlfriends, boyfriends, children, grandchildren, jobs, trips, cars. . . There was nothing that could fill that space because nothing was _Fred. _

However, like George, they knew somehow, as they all emerged tearfully from the memory, that the pain would slowly diminish, that Fred _wanted _it to diminish. They knew that they had to push onward because, as much as they sometimes wished it, only one had gone on. Only one had gone where all could not follow and it was up to those who remained to carry on and spread the joy, the joy that had always and would always continue to be . . . Fred.

A/N: Merry Christmas! This took a bit longer than I had anticipated but I hope you all liked it. Now I have to go and prepare Cornish game hens and Christmas Pudding.


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